Chapter 8: Brave New World (VII)
The rat-headed men filled a stainless steel bucket halfway with berries and packed several boxes of canned food. Then Miss Sophia tied a hemp rope around Crow and led him away like a pack animal.
In this manner, Crow successfully left the berry circle and entered the rat-headed people's residential area.
The rat-headed territory shared the same style as the berry circle: technological yet dilapidated.
To accommodate the massive rat population in limited space, they had constructed a complex three-dimensional space. The precise architectural structures dazzled outsiders. However, walking on the streets, one would find broken doors and windows everywhere, along with malfunctioning lights. The rat-headed people's own residential buildings resembled cramped, dilapidated cages, with living conditions barely better than those of livestock.
Various work robots shuffled about, but few were intact. They were rusting in multicolored patches, and many steel remains were piled in corners, with indicator lights occasionally flashing, constantly attempting to come back to life.
In the distance, there was a floating tunnel. It was unclear what principle it operated on. The curved screen on the tunnel's exterior was playing a promotional video about "advanced berry farming technology." Crow stood on his tiptoes and watched from the gap between buildings for a while. The "clean and automated" berry circle in the promotional video was dreamlike, bearing no relation to the one he knew.
Crow also saw a snow-white high-speed train pass by, not knowing what it was carrying. Its speed was estimated to be at least 300 kilometers per hour. Meanwhile, on the bumpy cobblestone paths of the rat-headed people, a bald rat squeezed by on a noisy bicycle, spitting on the ground.
The rat-headed people's farming industry was thriving. In a ten-minute journey, Crow saw several berry circles. Occasionally, he encountered handsome men and women—likely studs and breeding females—tied up like cattle by the roadside, heads down, grabbing berry grain with their hands.
The garbage bins by the roadside were on the verge of overflowing, with rancid vegetable soup dripping from the bottom. Cockroaches and rats roamed in packs—real rats, the silent, palm-sized kind, each so fat they could barely run.
Crow wasn't surprised. Since he first tasted beef-flavored berries, he had suspected that animal-headed people and real animals coexisted.
A little mouse darted out and bumped into Miss Sophia's foot. The big mouse lady immediately stopped to let the little mouse pass first, and piously made a wish: "Guardian spirit, please bless me with a successful thesis proposal, and may Crow be delivered to the buyer safe and sound."
Crow immediately understood: mice were the "guardian spirits" of the rat-headed people, symbols of good luck, akin to shooting stars and four-leaf clovers.
So he silently made a wish, mimicking Miss Sophia's gesture: Guardian spirit, please don't poop in my food.
The gentleman and the lady belonged to a gray rat family and were considered wealthy in the area, living in a respectable apartment building. The main entrance of the building faced the main street of the rat-headed village—in this place of superficial glamour, only the main street was clean and smooth, with traffic lights appearing quite ceremonious, requiring a full minute of waiting.
While waiting for the red light, Crow was idly looking around when suddenly, a car window rolled down, and the driver poked their head out for air. The car radio drifted out, surprisingly broadcasting human voices.
A clear, calm female voice was reporting: "…It is reported that the lord's castle was burglarized last night, with financial losses amounting to millions. The stolen items also include important personal belongings of the lord..."
The driver might have been hard of hearing, as the radio volume was blaring, greeting every passing rat and seeping into each car.
Miss Sophia, concerned about the state of the nation, remarked, "If the lord's castle can be stolen from, this hellish place is truly doomed."
A window of a nearby building opened, and a rat-headed figure with a nightcap stuck their head out to curse: "Public broadcasters deserve a terrible death!"
Bored passerby rats discussed among themselves: "I wonder what was stolen. What could the lord's 'important personal items' be?"
"Surely something shameful, or it would have been explicitly mentioned in the news. Could it be the lord's underwear?"
"What's shameful about underwear? I bet it's photos and videos of the lord's lover's... Is this red light broken again? Why is it taking so long?"
A little rude, huh? Couldn't the missing item just be something mundane, like a piece of brain?
In a car, a sleepy person woke up to the discussion, blinking tiredly. After listening for a while, they couldn't bear it anymore. A strand of silver hair fell onto their collar as they turned their head.
"Our city's security department is highly concerned. The sheriff personally visited the scene. Insiders reveal that significant progress has been made in the investigation, and the suspect's identity and possible whereabouts have been clarified..."
"Beep beep—"
The traffic light finally changed, and an impatient driver honked their horn, dispersing the impromptu street chat.
Crow followed Miss Sophia across the crosswalk as cars sped by, their exhaust fumes brushing past him.
"Huh?" He caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, "Are some cars noticeably larger than the others?"
He turned to look, but the convoy had already vanished around the corner.
"Let's go home." Miss Sophia pulled him. "Stop looking around."
Their family was thriving and occupied an entire floor.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, a group of young rat-people playing a war game rushed out, and the one playing the tank crashed into Miss Sophia. With a furious scream, she dropped the small steel bucket filled with berries, and the rope slipped from her hand.
The "tank" slid right into Crow's feet, meeting his lowered head.
From an angle where no rat could see, Crow made a provocative face at the "tank."
The "tank" crossed his eyes.
The next moment, Crow took off running.
The "tank" immediately called for his friends, and the two opposing armies united to chase after him.
"He's running! Catch him!"
Crow dashed through the cramped buildings of the rat-people. The ceiling height was too low for him, so to avoid hitting his head, he grabbed the empty steel bucket and placed it on his head.
In the chaos, Crow, with his "iron head," knocked out three lights and two smoke alarms. Finally, amidst Mr. Charles's roar, each rat-child received a big slap, and the disoriented Crow was stripped of his "iron hat" and dragged into Miss Sophia's room.
"Really, if we had fewer children, our clan might have moved above ground by now." Miss Sophia complained as she dragged out a plush nest from under the bed. It was old, shaped somewhere between a lazy sofa and a dog bed, with a sunken spot in the middle. "Come lie down... Can't fit? Why are you so tall?"
Crow was tossed into the plush nest by the force of the mouse lady, his legs dangling off the edge, feeling like the ceiling was spinning.
Miss Sophia tried to feed him water and food, but the smell of the can made Crow want to vomit, so he hid in the corner. Something in the corner gave off a cheap scent, which was more bearable than the can, so Crow randomly grabbed it and buried his face in it.
Miss Sophia said, "That's my scented candle..."
The lady was preparing to study above ground and didn't want people to smell the sewer on her, so she had prepared many scented candles.
"Let go and put it down... Sigh, don't roll on the floor, that's not edible! Goodness!"
Exhausted from dealing with the tall, clumsy Crow, Miss Sophia finally lost her temper, surrounding him with scented candles to calm him down.
"Bread is much easier to handle than you." Miss Sophia sighed as she crouched on the ground and pulled out a harmonica from her pocket. "Want to listen?"
Crow closed his eyes and turned away, refusing to engage with the rat-person's art.
Miss Sophia said, "Fine, I really can't help you, and you even get to pick the song. I'll play a soothing lullaby for you. Books say this kind of music can alleviate berry pain."
Crow: "..."
The legendary "above-ground school" really misled its students, producing "berry experts" who couldn't understand berry moods.
Then, the harmonica began its melody.
After a moment, Crow quietly opened his eyes.
Perhaps it was the natural advantage of a protruding mouth playing the harmonica, but Miss Sophia's skill was quite high. Though Crow wasn't a "kindred spirit," he could sense a deep sense of parting from the tune.
Suddenly, a few images flashed through his empty mind. The time, place, and people were unclear, but it seemed he was about to leave for somewhere. After a few steps, he turned back to see a shadowy figure standing nearby, watching him.
He waved at the person, took a few steps backward, and hummed half-jokingly, "Goodbye, Mom, tonight I set sail," but in his heart, he knew it would be "goodbye" forever.
In the harmonica's melody, Crow stared at the low ceiling, wondering who the person seeing him off was and who he himself was.
"Mom"… but wasn't his birth mother the countess? The figure, though its face was indistinct, didn't appear to be a woman based on its build… who could it be?
The sound of the harmonica stopped, and Miss Sophia's sharp beak poked over: "What is Crow thinking about?"
Crow snatched back his wandering thoughts and focused on the moment, starting to probe: "Bread…"
Miss Sophia was startled for a moment, then understanding dawned: "I see, I taught Bread to play the harmonica for you, didn't I? She was raised here with me, and she was as pretty as you, good at singing and playing the harmonica. I only sent her back to the breeding farm when I went to school… it's such a pity when I think of her now."
Ah, what a shame.
Miss Sophia lovingly stroked Crow's hair with her furry paw: "You don't understand these things, do you, fool? It's still easier to take care of you."
Crow realized he could understand some things, like how the mouse-faced people likely lived much longer than berries.
Miss Sophia: "It was my first time raising a berry, and I was too focused on having fun, teaching her all sorts of nonsense. Last year, when I came back for the holidays, she was about to give birth, so I let her stay with me for some special care, letting her flip through picture books freely. I had no idea that a berry's mind could be so easily 'overwhelmed'..."
So, Bread had stayed in Miss Sophia's nest for a while before she died. What exactly happened during that time?
At that moment, the door to Miss Sophia's room suddenly opened, and Mr. Charles poked his head in: "Sophia, come quick! The pig traders are setting up stalls!"
Miss Sophia's melancholy was interrupted, and she turned helplessly: "Uncle, I've told you so many times, the goods from the pig traders aren't from legitimate sources..."
The great Mr. Charles was quite down-to-earth on this point, believing himself to be the "chosen one" who could always get a bargain, just like the target demographic for health products worldwide.
Mr. Charles: "Come on, how else are you going to get a good deal?"
Miss Sophia confirmed that mouse-faced people also had the ability to roll their eyes.
"This time they've brought some really good stuff, guaranteed to be something you've never seen above ground!"
"Wait, I need to lock the door, or the berry will run out again!"
"Hurry up!"
Mr. Charles slid over and scooped Miss Sophia up, mouse and hat and all.
The door clicked shut, but Crow wasn't in any rush. After lying there for a while, he gathered some strength and slowly got up.
Crow wandered around the room with the scented candle, sniffing Miss Sophia's hair spray, nail polish, and hidden alcohol before piling them together. Then he went to investigate the bookshelf. The bottom half of the bookshelf was locked, but on the highest shelf, there were a few old children's literacy picture books.
By the candlelight, Crow spent some time flipping through the books from beginning to end. Some pages were worn, with clear human fingerprints.
He sighed, hugged the book, and flipped to the section on months and dates, combining the numbers his canned friends had taught him to study the calendar on the wall.
The calendar had already turned to October—living underground where the sun never shone, the mouse-faced people actually used the solar calendar, with a week of seven days.
What was even stranger was that this calendar started with November, making October the last month of the year.
Crow was puzzled, checking several times to confirm that the first few days of November were indeed marked as "New Year's break."
What was wrong with these people? Was it against the law to rename "November" to "January"?
Lacking sufficient information, he had to set his doubts aside for the moment.
Most of the pages on the calendar were quite new, but the pages for November and May were dusty, indicating that Miss Sophia probably lived at a "ground" boarding school and returned home only twice a year, around mid-year and the end of the year.
During her short holidays, she would bring her former pet from Berry Circle for a visit and take care of it for a few days. One day, she forgot to lock the door, and Bread slipped out.
It is known that Bread, Miss Sophia's pet since childhood, had been with her for many years and was always well-behaved. Why did he suddenly run out that time?
Had Sophia ever forgotten to lock the door before? Or did Bread hear or see something?
Crow's gaze fell on the only window in the room.
The rat-folk had low requirements for lighting and ventilation, so the windows were very small. The window in Miss Sophia's room faced the back door of the building. From the window, all you could see were densely packed, dilapidated buildings. Outside, there was a narrow path, barely wide enough for one rat to pass through.
One end of the path led in the direction of the berry circle, while the other end led to who knows where.
Crow leaned by the window, waiting, but no rats came down the path. Clearly, this wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He decided to do something that matched his reputation for being a bit... unconventional.
He turned the tablecloth into a makeshift bag and slung it over his shoulder. He wrapped the pillowcase around the back of his head, tying it under his nose to keep his long hair out of the way. Finally, he draped the bedsheet over his shoulders like a cloak, giving it a vigorous shake that made it flutter dramatically, making him feel surprisingly dashing.
At that moment, the door creaked open, and a few rat-folk children peeked in—some kids from the gray rat family had probably known the adults were out and stolen the keys to come see the berries.
Crow: "Speak of the devil!"
In the flickering candlelight, Crow’s mysterious smile slowly spread across his face.
The rat-folk youngsters: "Wow!"
And then a pillow came flying toward them.